Where Are We Going?
by VioletLord115
Summary: One Mission. Pick up the packages from Germany, drop them off back to base. The plane goes off course, crashing, there are only four marines that survived the crash. They all have one question: Why are the dead walking? Zombies. Only one man survived through the night, however, he pledges to find out where they come from. While he seeks for answers, he ends up with more questions.


**April 1st, 1945**

_**I am on a ride in the sky over Germany. The Sarge and the rest of the squad and I have picked up the package. Our superiors had ordered for the retrieval, we had found it in an abandoned outpost. There are huge boxes, we had to transport them and move them in while we had to keep our eyes open, practically looking over our shoulders. The place gave me the creeps. It was foggy, and Stastny thought he had seen a ghost, a little girl, some creepy shit was going on there. Or maybe Stastny was just paranoid. Hell, he's always been the one with an eye open at night, watching out for ambushes or any Japanese ready to get the jump on us, The Package was not just one box, thank god, but there was a series of them. They were large, nearly the size of a truck, so we had to pitch in and carry them all in a group. **__**There was something off about them. Ya know, I swear I had heard scratching coming from the inside, maybe I'm hallucinating. It went quiet and not a word was spoken. We are to deliver the package, quick and clean. Sarge was clear when he said 'Don't touch those boxes or you'll never hear the end of it.'. Needless to say, you shouldn't ever speak back, or question the Sergeant. Or you'll never hear the end of it, too.**_

_Private Lee_

Inside of the cargo hold, there was around thirteen to fifteen marines. They were spread out, hanging back and talking amongst themselves, conversing. Everyone was tired, exhausted, glad that they could have a sense of rest before they'd go back and marching into the frontlines again. The Marines were dedicated, had been fighting since World War II began, and this platoon was lucky to have survived for even this long.

Private Lee felt like he had seen a lot. No, he was only a soldier for two years. Two damn years that he has not been back home, no, he'd been fighting for America, fighting for the land of the free, the country that he would bleed for. And he did. He's bled, got shot, stabbed, survived the worst of the worst injuries by far. Amazing that he was still alive.

And so, he could have some rest, whether he'd go back to fighting the Japs again or probably going off to go and shoot up some Nazis. America has been mainly fighting this war with the Japanese, mostly, and it seems like the Russians had a huge grudge over what they had done to one of their great cities: Stalingrad. Hell, even he felt bad. Many people died when the Germans had committed civilian genocide and a full-on massacre.

Ah, probably didn't matter. Over and done with, as it was history by now, he shared the same Vendetta against the Nazis, just as equal to the Japanese and their 'honor'. If that honor meant that ya needed to conquer other countries, then there was something wrong with it. He wouldn't want to have any. Except, he did, he had a certain honor code to him.

"Alright boys." A man shouted. All the troops shut up in an instant, their heads turning and tilting, a man stood in the center. While he looked like the rest of them, his sleeves were rolled up and a cap rested over his head. A rough and scratched up face displayed, there was a visible scar across his face, from over his left eye and down to his cheek. A war-driven man.

_Sargeant Avalen_

"O'Roy is gonna take a long time before we get back to base. Estimated time is suppose to be round a day and a half. I'm counting 34 hours." Avalen looked among the rest of them, with a look of command, he challenged anybody to speak up or complain. Groan even.

Avalen planted a pair of hands over his hips, then turning between the soldiers, there was muttering coming from the few that were sitting next to one of the boxes, and one was sitting over the lift. Dangerously enough, sometimes the plane rocked back and forth, enough that it could knock someone off their feet if they weren't careful or balanced on their footing. Lee always hung onto something, a hand placed onto a safety bar, while another was planted over the barrel of his M1 Garand. The stock rested on the ground of the airplane when he held it, firmly.

Sarge snapped his head over to them, they shut up quickly as his eyes settled on them. "You boys did a lot of heavy lifting altogether. Take this ride as a...short break time. Before ya know it, you'll be back and shooting Japs."

"While we're on here, Sarge, what the hell are in these boxes?" A soldier, Stastny spoke up with an alert expression. Not only was he curious, but he was just as cautious. He had been on edge since they had gotten on the damn aircraft- ghost town always spooked him. Even if that wasn't a town. Sargeant Avalen pointed to him sternly, eyes widening. "I and the rest of you have been ordered from high command to make no contact with these boxes. I don't know either, but we're not supposed to be opening any of them. If any of you do, your ass is grass."

Everyone was tense. Some we're questioning the orders, not exactly up to date or regulation, they weren't so sure about this discreet but retrieval mission. What were they transporting? The newest recruit was scared, he'd been shaking in the ride, and when they arrived to pick up the objective.

Lee looked over, eyes squinting and past Avalen, there was a marine standing over one of the crates. While he was calmly holding his rifle, his fingers were scraping over the wooden box, looking as if he were about to open it. The curious cat of the group: Private Alderson.

"Alderson!" Lee shouted over anyone that was talking, when Sargeant Avalen turned his head to Lee, he turned, searching for the outline of Alderson. The Private stopped, jumped when his name was shouted, and frightened to witness the Sergeant marching over to him. When his hand grasped him by the collarbone. "You touch that lid again, your gonna be missing a set of fingers, like some hillbilly redneck fuck!" He shouted in his face, nearly spitting him, Alderson was trembling, didn't even try shoving him and getting off.

Alderson was let go. When the grasp over his collarbone was let loose, Sarge pushed him by the shoulder, and stood his ground. "Stop shaking you fucking sissy. Don't touch that box, and you won't lose fingers." With the tilt of his head, and a corner glare, he turned to address the rest of the platoon. "No touching! No peeking, that means not even the slightest light lift of the lid, you do, then you are fucked! I will know, and so will High Command." He grunted.

Lee was glad to know that he helped. Well, he didn't want Alderson to lose any fingers, or get shot. Hell, he'd went out of his way to protect him during his time. Private Lee was still tense, even while he tried to relax, let his muscles loose, he sat his rifle on his lap. "When we deliver these crates, we're gonna be shipped off back to fight the Japs. We're gonna flush those bastards out of the grass, so when were deployed, you raise those rifles and strike fear into them! Oorah!"

"_Oorah_!"

A shining blue tint was in the way of his eyes. He grunted, raising a hand to block out from wherever that light came from. Private Lee looked, while nobody noticed and conversed, he had seen the strange glow come from Alderson. There was something that he was clutching In his hand, Lee muttered to himself. "The hell…?"

He was quiet. Alderson still trembled, like he was nervous, scared even. Beyond that.

Lee heard something. It sounded faint but distant, somewhere far back and in his mind, he swore that he heard the faint giggling of a little girl. His eyes squinted, and tapping was heard. Yes, he could hear it, surprised that his hearing was this good even after all of this war. Explosions and gunfire wasn't always going to be good for his ears.

More tapping. Lee looked back, before he could, a dirty hand planted on his hand. He looked up to be greeted with a familiar man- a man that he could call his best friend.

_Corporal Fields_

"Hey buddy. You okay? Look like you were looking at something." His voice was scratchy, like something was caught in his throat, hell, it was recognizable and very comprehensible. Lee gave him a smile of unsurity, and looked down to the floor.

"You'd been staring at something for the past ten minutes. What happened?"

He snapped up a bit, feeling lightheaded, Lee grunted and responded. "Wha- sorry man. Just dozing off a bi-"

* * *

_The fuck?_

_In the blink of an eye, everyone was gone. The Sergeant, the rest of the platoon, and all the boxes were open from what he noticed. Lee shot up to his feet and carried his rifle, the plane felt to have been moving still-_

_He was so confused. Fields had just been there, right In front of him, crouched down to speak with him. Was he drugged or something? Someone must have opened those boxes. Someone was losing their fingers, and if that was so, then where the hell were they all meeting to chop em up? There wasn't a lot of room, and he didn't hear screaming, whimpering, or crying. _

_"What gives…?" He muttered, now lifting and setting the barrel of his M1 Garand over his left hand palm. He listened. There was nobody chanting, with a single man crying and screaming for his life. Not that he could hear anyway._

_The boxes…_

_He heard whispers running past his ears. In his mind, a whisper had told him to go, to look in. It was his self-conscious that was telling him. He only took a few steps to lean his head over, looking inside, only discovering there was a black emptiness. Nothing was in that box, and from what it looked like, there wasn't jackshit in the others. He'd check himself if he must._

_Just praying to God that none of the bodies of his fellow Marines would be resting inside. It was a fear, one that was unlikely to happen, even on this plane. Not the O'Roy._

_Once again, he has noticed it. The giggling, when he spun around and aimed down the sights, a little girl was just around the corner, peeking, and when he had instinctively pulled the trigger, he fired, but he missed the girl by a few inches. A bolting sound was heard, while the bullet fell off the wall as soon as it hit._

_She was running afterwards, hiding behind the box, there was more that he heard of the pitter patter of bare footsteps. "That was just a little girl, why are you trying to shoot a kid-!?" He punched the side of his head, grunting, the pitter patter came closer until it finally but mysteriously stopped._

_Lee had been twisting and turning, aiming to find and look for that girl, see if he could spot her. She was fast, so it was hard to tell where she was right now..._

_With one a full one-eighty spin around, a set of glowing yellow eyes beamed. He screamed, just before he could shoot at them, his rifle was raised to the air and he ended up shooting the ceiling. He was shot back against a wall of boxes. _

_And then, in the blink of an eye, a dark aura surrounded his vision and the little girl was afloat before him. She only screeched these words in a demonic and inhumane tone, barely audible, and almost incoherent. But...before he was even able to process this, he woke up._

* * *

A feeling of pain struck all over his body. It was numb, slightly sore, like he had been shaken and thrown around like a kid with a toy, recklessly playing with it. He felt used, and with this sore feeling in his body, he could hardly have thought what just happened.

Smoke filled his nostrils, there was some dirt or muck on his face, or something. It felt scratchy. He had failed to notice for a few seconds that there was something stopping him from getting up.

Because there was something heavy resting over his lap, fortunately, he could move his arms and his hands, as they were not stuck like his legs were. Lee winced, closing his eyes, he placed his hand over his face to feel his cheeks, and he recognized it. It was ashes that was on his face, from what he could tell...something did happen.

His eyes reopened. He found himself in a different place, it was dark but not as much. Fire was blazed in a few areas, illuminating, but there was also the cloudy and dark sky that he'd barely been able to see past and through a single hole in the wall. Now he could recognize through a doorway that it was the way into the cockpit…

Did we crash? Lee thought, now curious. Were they discovered, and shot down by an anti artillery gun? Or did something malfunction within the engine? From what he could have seen, he was still in the cargo bay, seeing as the crates and boxes were stacked and tied.

"Holy shit…" He coughed, beginning to hack up past the smoke, he smelled a foul odor. It was recognizable. Like that night in the swamp, all the way back, maybe a year ago. Through remembering a few things, he frowned, and his hands planted onto the debris that was smashed over his lap.

Okay. While he gathered his strength, whatever that he had, he started to pry and pull it off. He was groaning loudly, until he was yelling viciously, he threw the long metal piece off of his body. Now he could move and feel with his legs, the question was, could he get up and walk?

Maybe. He was able to manage and get himself up to his feet, aside from tripping a few times, nearly falling back and on the ground.

"Okay, okay. I need to get out, I can't-" Lee mumbled, starting to cough up violently, he sniffed and cracked his knuckles. His hands planted onto a box and by the straps, yet while he didn't notice until he was pulling himself up the tilted crashed airplane, the odor was coming closer.

He swore that he'd seen bodies toppled over. He wasn't sure, but he'd seen them.

When he placed a hand on the side of a crate, he nearly gagged, coughing violently, he looked to where the odor was coming from. A US Marine was laid on the side, though had it been that there wasn't an extended stick of rebar coming out from his chest, and the bloody face, he'd think he was alive…

"Holy shit...that smell, it's fucking gross." He felt terrible. While he solemnly paid his respects to the dead as he was just getting out, he would have been sure to collect his dog tags.

A hand reached out and planted on the Marines chest, he searched for his chained dog tags, his eyes squinting as he focused to reach it. He didn't know what he was expecting, there was just this dark wave of emotion, all the hairs in his neck we're sticking up...something wasn't right.

A scream erupted and his ears were booming from it, he yelled in surprise but also fear. His heart raced when the Marines' eyes beamed in a yellow glow, his teeth clacking and gnawing at him, his arms raised to grab at Lee's while it tried to pull him in for a bite.

"What the fuck!?" He shouted in terror. His heart was racing a hundred miles an hour, the man should have been dead! There was a gaping hole in his chest, and he was still alive! He didn't know what to do, he was freaking out, and just as he was able to find the dog tags, he whipped out a 1911. It wasn't long when the safety was released, a gunshot rang and a skull cracked. The undead Marines grasp was loose, head dropped down, eyes closed as the glow faded along with his own life. Now, he was dead.

Just as he was letting go, he slid down and nearly started to freefall back to where he came from. But instead, while he reached out to grab onto ANYTHING, he let the dog tags fall down to the end of the plane, while he held on for dear life. He breathed heavily, looking down and back up to the cockpit, he moved himself up.

He kept thinking about the Marine- that man, that poor man...no. That creature, it could not have been a man anymore. For christs sake, his guts were poured out and a rebar was stuck through his chest! Not the first time he'd actually seen something nearly as gruesome as that, but that was not his limit. He had seen decapitated heads, slit throats, limbs blown off from grenades or powerful guns like light machine guns. Hell, even from one shot from the Trench Gun would blow an entire arm off.

Lee favoured the rifle more than he did of a shotgun. The Rifle was efficient in range, however, depending on which one he used, it took a few shots to actually kill someone. A Springfield was the weapon that he would most definitely use if he wanted to seriously hurt someone, with a scope, it was lethal. However in combat, it was likely that he'd go along with the M1 Garand, or the M1A1 Carbine.

It never hurt to just double tap. You know, just when you think that they were dead, pull the trigger once and see if they shake or bounce, even as a sign of movement. Moving up to the cockpit, he was hesitant, afraid that he would see the pilot as he had with the twisted form of that marine.

No. The body wasn't even there, nobody sat where the pilot would have been. Where the hell was O'Roy- the answer was vague, but just as he noticed from looking up to the windows of the plane, there was a shattered hole. Some blood was caught over the edges, not too much, but it was clear. He didn't need to say anything to know what happened…

Lee climbed up the cockpit, over a chair, he peeked over the hole and looked down and at the ground. From a clear distance, he'd seen a body laid out on the ground, meters away from the crash. A short trail of blood was there, and Lee could only imagine the bloody mess that was on the front of his body, which faced the ground. "Poor guy…" The Marine could only assume that when the plane crashed, he probably flew out from his seat and busted through the windshield of the plane...must have been horrible to slide across cement, because from what he'd see, they were in an airfield…

The pilot was dead then...not like he was gonna get up on his feet to- to pilot the plane, because the plane was in ruins and burning pieces. And from looking down and all around, it was just a calm but eerie silence. There wasn't anything calm about the fog that surrounded the plane, hell, Lee couldn't see a damn thing with this fog. It was too thick.

It was best that he kept quiet though. They were still in German territory, as far as he could remember at least. There was a ruined building, not too far, there was also trucks, barrels, wooden barricades...hell, it looked like a fucking warzone from this angle. A dead warzone. There was no bodies in sight, no blood, limbs lying around, no nothing. This only made the place more creepy…

He needed to land and jump out safely. He had made a bigger hole, that way on the drop down, he wouldn't break a leg or cut himself from the glass. While he sent a few powerful kicks, the glass eventually shattered in a thousand pieces before it was sent down to the ground. He patted over his sleeves, and shuffled his hands down his green pants and combat boots. No glass.

Lee managed to climb down safely, he avoided any possible injuries for now, but he wasn't entirely safe. There was fire, pieces of debris spread out, and-

_A flash of yellow beaming eyes interrupted his vision._

With the blast of an explosion, Lee was flung to the ground out of fear and surprise, knocked back and to the side, he rolled over the grounds of the airfield. Unaware of where it came from, he'd only seen it from the corner of his eye, it looked like it came from the cockpit.

His vision was blurry, and his ears were ringing loudly, it was deafening. The feeling was all too familiar, he'd heard the ringing many times after the explosions of grenades, or a bullet soared past his ear. While it was blurry, he was on his back, his knees were high in the air, and a hand pressed against the side of his head in pain, fingers digging into his skin-

"Fuck…!" He finally swore, wincing in pain and swearing out of habit, Private Lee laid his head back and took a few moments to rejuvenate. His whole body was sore for a while, and his back hurt from the fall since the explosion. However, nothing fell on him, and he was lucky, it took some moments before his hearing had came back to him. The ringing stopped- and instead of the unwelcoming silence, there was only whimpering and crying, of a man. A boy.

It was closer, the more that his hearing would return, it was becoming more and more audible. His head was spinning and turning, though it only took one tilt of his head to notice a soldier- a survivor! He was sitting down, his upper body was sat up, but his legs- hell, he didn't know what he could see through this fog, but from the whimpering and crying, Lee only assume that he was injured...hopefully not anything critical.

But he was jumping up to the pace, as soon as he spotted him, and he ran. He knew by that whimpering, it was Alderson. "Alderson!" He was sprinting to him, hurrying, the whimpering private cried out. "Alderson, are you okay!?" He shouted.

Lee skirted across the ground and stopped in his tracks. Just as he was peering over his shoulder, getting on one knee and placing a hand on his shoulder, he looked over. A huge piece of debris was sitting on his legs, directly onto his knees- a debris from the plane, of course, this was not good…

Alderson made no audible words in response, he just clenched onto the sleeves of Lee's sweatshirt, seething through his teeth, and his fingers clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was at a loss for words, almost choked on his own breath...god. God. He hoped that he wasn't going to be crippled, and-

"Ge-et t-this fU-ucK-ing th-thing off m-me!" Alderson cried in pain, whining more and more, it was making him panic more than already. He pushed aside all his worries, and Lee patted his shoulder. "I'll get you back to your feet- just- just hang in there Charlie!"

He got up to his feet for a second or so, just so that Lee could move to the side where he could get a better grasp of what he was picking up. His hands turned, and his fingers and thumbs pressed and clenched tightly. Now, as he was getting ready, he looked over to him, Alderson was freaking out- holding onto the rebar, seething, Lee started. "Ready!?"

"Three, two, one, PULL!" Lee shouted, and with their combined strength, Lee began to lift it up from the side, while Alderson was just rising it up in the air as much as he could- Lee hardly paid attention, but a set of arms wrapped around Alderson's shoulders, from right under his armpits, and Lee could see another set of arms wrap around the debris, as another Marine was coming up to help.

Two more survivors and he couldn't express how happy he was- "Pull him back! Pull him back!" A strong and scratchy voice ordered, it was no other than the Sarge himself. Alderson was pulled out and away from harm's way, at least, by the metal that crushed his legs…

"Release!" At the same time, the Marines both had backed away, while the metal fell down to the ground in a loud slam to the ground! And with Aldersons' relief of groans, silent crying and shudders of this numbing pain- he didn't get up. Lee had taken a few heavy breaths- And so had he heard Avalens' own breathing, teeth grinding together.

"Lee, Alderson! Dammit if I'm glad to see the two of you are alive!" Another familiar voice. It was Fields-! Lee tilted his head, to the same marine that had helped Alderson out of that mess, Fields saluted lazily. "Good to see ya, buddy!"

"And good to see you too, brother." Lee was thrilled. Even enough to see that there were three Marines that survived the crash, at least, as far as he knew. Fields held onto the injured man of the group, while he lied down to recover, Lee and Fields made no comment to each other after that. Just a silence...it was weird.

Avalen picked up a weapon, though he might have dropped it on the ground, he picked up a Thompson, wrapping a leather strapping around his shoulder and under his waist, he looked over to the others. "You boys got any weapons from the crash?" He was mainly talking between Lee and Alderson, as clearly enough, Fields held up a M1 Garand, hand on the barrel, another held by the stock.

Private Fields observed his injured friend, looking over him, he noticed a pistol on his hip and in a holster. "Alderson's got an M1911, sir!"

If Lee was able to even properly speaking, the only thing he was able to see out of the corner of his eye, while Fields was looking at the injured, and Avalen was looking forward. A glimpse of two glowing eyes, that's what the first thing that Lee was able to spot just behind the Sergeant.

With two wide eyes, watching as the creature- a man with the very same eyes as the one in the plane was JUST this close to grabbing onto him and ripping into his throat.

Lee was instinctive when he had unravelled the holster, holding onto his M1911 as his finger was already on the edge of the trigger, it felt like time had slowed when the barrel of the pistol was just aimed towards the Zombies head. Avalen had a shocked look- as if he felt betrayed, even for a single second.

With one shot, the bullet soared and popped right through the eye socket, with a bullseye, Avalen fell forward and rolled away, hearing even past the gunshot that there was a twisting crack of bone when the bullet passed through the skull, splattering blood and the brain inside. Fields was just as surprised, even raising his rifle and about to fire, when he had witnessed a body tumble.

Avalen was crawling back a few steps when this occurred. The body fell, Lee breathed rapidly, and when this single gunshot rang throughout the fog and supposedly abandoned airfield, it felt like...like a warning. An eerie feeling past him, as all hairs rose on the back of his neck.

A twist of a head had only made Lee sweat. Avalen glared towards Lee for a second, a finger was on the trigger of the Thompson, but then he snapped towards the body on the ground and crawled to check it out- no. "Nazi...Lee."

"That was some quick fucking reflexes! Good fucking shot!" He shouted in a sly bit of rage, and surprise, yes, but he was also...proud? Something like that.

Fields was shocked by what transpired in just a few seconds. Lee was on the ground, Avalen was mixed, but he was in mix with surprise, shock, anger, and relief. All sorts of emotions ran, and he was shot with adrenaline coursing through his veins and blood. He picked up his Thompson, and it wasn't long before things were bound to get worse. "That gunshot is gonna alarm every potential German in the area. If they weren't here when the plane crashed, they'll know that there are survivors." Fields said.

"We need to move now." Avalon added, now going over to Alderson who was still on the ground, and he wrapped an arm around his. "On your feet, Alderson. You too, Lee!"

A man was just sprinting out, coming from the fog, his eyes were beaming yellow and he could see it as clear as day from here. Just like that Marine he had to shoot, and just like that Nazi, it was another one of those fucking things. A Zombie.

When he started running, growling, it started to scream and Avalon snapped his head to look for where the inhumane screaming came from. Fields also looked up, but Alderson couldn't see it. Lee was quick to get up on his feet.

"What the duck is that thing?!" Avalon shouted, noticing from a far view that the Nazi was covered in blood, his skin pale and gray, and several gunshot wounds from the chest and stomach. He had a grim look on his face, Fields just looked terrified from the sight.

By the time that the Zombie was only halfway to their destination, Lee charged up and held his pistol with two hands, moving quickly and aiming down the sights, he raised it and took aim. To no surprise, and Lee unloaded the pistol by each bullet, with what he had left in his magazine quickly. The shots barely made the creature stagger, or even fall, with a shot to the leg, it didn't fall.

He reloaded, leaving the magazine to drop to the floor while he loaded another, his hands were shaking and his body trembled with those shots. "Why won't you sit the fuck down you son of a bitch?!" He was only blasting a few more shots, when it started slowing down, and with raising the pistol, firing a round into his chest, the Zombie fell to its knees, growling.

Lee stepped over to it, kicking it directly in the face, planting a boot on its chest while he cocked the pistol, blasting a round in its face. Now, finally, with a snap, it was dead. The light faded from its yellow eyes…

And then, his head raised and to look out into the empty fog. Avalon raised, his Thompson was raised, and Fields was just helping up Alderson, who was currently whimpering, barely even able to walk, an arm placed over Fields shoulder and neck.

One zombie began to run out from the fog, but beside that one, a few more began coming out to and in appearance, seven, nine...There were just so many. They all looked inhumane, blood-covered, and they acted so beast-like. While they were swarming out from the mist, Lee whispered under his breath, feeling hazy. "Oh shit…"

"Fields, grab and help Alderson to his feet! Go to that structure, not that far!" Avalen shouted with a slight panic in his voice, now grabbing a M1 Garand, he tossed it over to Lee, who had quickly grabbed it with both hands after shoving the pistol into its holster. "Lee, use that rifle, and send those fuckbeasts back to hell." Avalen snarled, nodding his head, the Private understood. And just as Fields got Alderson up to his feet, they were slowly starting to move.

"Okay…" Lee muttered, taking a few breaths, his rifle was now raised, aiming down the sights he took a few shots at the first zombie. It fell to the floor, while there was more, he was aiming separately, mainly focusing on getting some headshots to take them down. It did work, shots to their heads, through their eyeballs, some skull cracking. It was not as amusing, though it felt weird, it felt right. And wrong.

The two Marines were now retreating to the structure. Avalen was staying close by, turning his head back and forth, he was gunning down a few small groups that was beginning to close in. Lee was taking care of what zombies were coming out in the mist, but it felt like the more bodies that were dropping, the more that started coming.

_Just like Peleliu, these fuckers wouldn't stop coming. _They've all had to sleep in the night, from foxholes to trenches, sleep with one eye open, just so that no Japanese soldiers would come out to slit their throats with the bayonets of their rifles. It was not pleasant to see your ally soldiers, sleeping peacefully, but only to feel a blade slit through the skin on your neck. Hell, one slash was all that was needed to wake him up.

They were all like Japanese. Hiding in the trees, coming out from the tall grass, ready to pounce at you like prey. The undead Nazi's were just coming and coming. He reloaded, shoved a clip into the rifle, cocked it, and then started backing further when they were starting to tunnel through.

"Nazis are coming out quick, Sarge!" Lee called out, only to earn a callback from Avalen, who was just reloading, after gunning down a few zombies that were coming right around from the airplane. Actually...they had came from inside the airplane, from the cockpit, and some holes. "Lee, six o'clock!"

With a turn, he could hear a growl. One hand slammed into the side of his head, and he was too slow this time, only to stagger back, unable to fire in time. He fell on the ground roughly, dropping the rifle, he grunted. His vision was blurry, but he could see that a Nazi was standing over him. Growling loudly, it was just beginning to drop down, to try and tear him apart. He had trouble pulling out the pistol, as it was stuck in its holster. "SHIT! SARGE!" Lee cried out for help.

He grabbed the Zombies wrist, only to kick at its stomach, he unravelled the holster, but before he was able to whip out the weapon and shoot it square in the face, a bullet went past the zombies head, and it was knocked dead. Lee's face was splattered with blood, raising a green sleeve, he tried his best to wipe, thankfully, none got in his eyes. That would be fucking bad.

Then he watched, Avalen ran over to him, firing half a clip of his thompson over and behind him, before he lowered an arm. "Get up, Private. Were not done yet." He slapped an arm against the Sargeants, helping him up, Lee quickly retrieved his M1 Garand, but a hand placed on his shoulder. A stern look came from the Sarge, and then, he was handing him an object- two, actually. Grenades.

"Put those to good use. If they keep piling up, blow those fuckers up!" They gave each other a nod of understanding, and afterwards, he was running off and leaving Lee. They were lessening in numbers, more came out, it was just getting worse. Hell, they were coming from the trees, and other debris and ruins.

Fields was holding onto Alderson, helping him as he was limp-walking with the Corporal, Alderson was wincing in pain, holding onto a pistol, shivering. Just as they were heading towards the building, a hand grabbed onto his leg, tightly. A tightened grasp, and Alderson screamed, only to look back and lower his pistol.

O'Roys bloody and fucked up face was showing, with yellow beaming eyes, his bloodied gloved hands were wrapped around his ankle, pulling him back while he was nearly falling, Fields staggered a bit and panicked, just as much as Alderson. But before he could fire a shot, Alderson was spam-firing his pistol right into his head, no hesitation, just shot O'Roy until he wasn't grabbing him no more.

He was a good pilot, and a friend too. Hell, they didnt know how to take his death, or the amount of blood that covered his entire body. From the brown jacket, to his scarf, and to the aviator cap that he wore. It was all soaked in blood, and there were already injuries, only Lee figured out that O'Roy had flew out of the cockpit. Must have been dragged across the concrete from the fall.

Alderson nearly fell onto his knees, before Fields grabbed onto him again, holding his Springfield again, he helped him up again. "I got you, brother, stay with me!" Lee rushed back, heading with Fields and Alderson. The Sergeant was screaming orders. "Fall back, fall back! Lee, Fields, carry Alderson. Double time! Go, go!"

With the upcoming hordes, and only having Sergeant Avalen firing off and shooting the ones that were closer, the other three were panicking. Alderson was afraid, afraid that they were going to drop him- leave him for dead while these freaks would do god only knows what. The undead- the Nazis that were resurrected, who knows what kind of gruesome scene that they could make out of one single man, defenseless.

But he'd be damned if they actually took their strength and time to carry him. Hell, they always had his back, Lee especially. No Japs were able to kill them, and even from the worst situations, he was helped out of them- dragged out, before he got shot and killed. Sure, he was grateful, relieved and beyond all other things that let him be positive. Lee wasn't gonna let him go, and if he was, it would only be to turn back and put a bullet in the son of a bitch who was after them. And there were many.

There was no way that they were dropping him for dead. Not while Avalen had anything to say about it, and they were closing into the building. Just now, they were passing through some wooden fences, tall, and just by barrels and over a mud puddle, Avalen looked back.

"Sarge, get the door!" Fields yelled out. "On it!" He ran, at full speed, only to kick open the door with a powerful kick, so hard, that it got knocked out of its hinges. It fell on the floor, roughly, they wasted no time carrying him in.

Immediately, Lee let go of Aldersons feet and Fields dragged him inside to prop him against the wall. The Sergeant looked outside, then over to the wall, there were sandbags lying against it. "Private, stack those sandbags over this doorway- it'll slow em down- Alderson, you better starting picking a time to get on your feet. We've got Nazis approaching fast!"

"Fields! There's an open door on the other side, take defensive position over there! Lee, when you're done, you'll switch between those two windows, close to me, and on that side!"

This was all so fast. There wasn't time to stop and think about it, and the Private took these orders as if their lives were at risk, and yes, they were. It was rational to panic a bit, but it wasn't alright to the Sarge. He was dragging sandbags all to the door, while he was firing over his head to the approaching hordes, while he stacked the sandbags together, taking what little time that he had to do this. Which was not too long, because there was a lot of them, and a lot, means that they were gonna either get torn to shreds, or fight back. They had the guns, but were they gonna have enough ammo?

They were going to get through this, Private Lee was sure of it. He didn't survive any gunshot wounds, or trapped in a mudhole in a japanese camp for days, just so he could get eaten alive by these fucking Nazi bastards.

Twisted sons a bitches! He was going to give them hell before he died, but, he doubted that he was gonna die. And he wasn't- at least, not today, because he was going to get out of this war alive. Alive, he reminded himself. He swore it.

It wasn't long to take those sandbags. With another idea, he picked up the door, turning on its side, he placed it against the doorway and to the sandbags. Only to drag a few more sandbags, keeping the door to hold, so the sandbags were not gonna be easy to fall out when the undead were gonna start rolling through here. They were gonna flood through the building- from how many there were.

While Lee and Fields took defensive positions, Lee was on the window on the other side of the building, watching a window in front of him, always checking behind to the other, Fields was posted at the window on the other side. And with their friend, Alderson, who was injured and sitting down, leaned against the wall, it was only three of them that were defending against the wretched hordes. With what guns and ammo they had, though very little, each of them were determined.

But how the hell were they gonna get out of here, especially when the building was swarmed, with Nazi Zombies all around, limping and running, all they could do was load their guns and get ready.

The Nazis were coming, this was their retaliation. Fight or defend, they weren't dying anytime soon.


End file.
